Nightly Encounter
by Naidoo
Summary: Penelope is in for a little surprise when she gets home for a party with friends. Let's call it an AU, shall we?


_A/N: Interesting what some emails can inspire you to do :) Got taht idea last night when getting my daily "Dude a Day"-E-Mails from Buzzfeed, where they basically send you an e-mail every day with a very hot guy (sometimes even a group of hot guys) in semi-naked states with a "story" why they are in your life. Very entertaining and highly recommended. This story was inspired by last nights e-mail. I have borrowed the generell idea, as well as some (conversation)parts. The E-Mail usually is like 100 words or so, so most of the story is my own :)_

 _And before anyone points it out in a review - I'm aware that the story makes no sense whatsoever. Guess what? Sometimes they don't have to :D_

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Penelope really shouldn't have had that last drink.

Or the three before that one.

But Julie kept bringing new drinks constantly. And Julie _knew_ drinks – or rather bartenders who mixed strange cocktails that no one ever heard of. But they tasted divine – and got you drunk really, really fast. That was the downside.

And maybe she should have taken one of Julie's friends up on his offer to share a cab. But thing was she knew Nate and as fun as he was, he was pretty drunk himself. Penelope knew from previous _encounters_ that drunk!Nate was rather touchy-feely and Penelope would have had a hard time fighting his hands off. The bar was not far away from her apartment, maybe a 20 minute walk if she walked really, really slow. And the fresh air was maybe great for her slightly dizzy state. It wouldn't magically solve her hangover problem in the morning, but it might make things less painful.

It took he a few tries until her key hit the lock. But eventually it did, which made her giggle – for no apparent reason.

She was blindly reaching along the wall in search of the light switch when all of a sudden a table lamp was flicked on and she was flooded in a soft, warm glow. She…. Wait, since when did she own a table lamp? And who would be here to switch it on? She lived alone. Before she could continue to contemplate on that thought she heard a deep, velvety soft voice.

"So where were you?" a male voice asked.

She thought about that for a split-second. Maybe she just imagined things and this was in fact that first sign of alcohol poisoning. She should definitely google that – _Side effects of alcohol poisoning._

Before she was actually able to finish that sentence though, or even start googling, her eyes fell on what was without a doubt the most gorgeous example of male species she had ever seen. Definitely alcohol poisoning!

She blinked once or twice, trying – or rather hoping – that weird fog that seemed to engulf around her brain would lift.

There was a shirtless, objectively very attractive man in sunglasses in her living room. Skin as luscious as chocolate, muscles over muscles. Fit, athletic and hot as hell. Normally, she'd question why a home intruder would be the one asking HER the tough questions, but she couldn't stop herself to look further than those abs. And that chest. Or that biceps. Actually look at this whole torso and loose herself in it. And didn't he say something a moment ago?

"Where….were….you?" she heard him ask again, slow this time, pronouncing every syllable. And just now she caught sight of his face. And damn! His face continued with the ridiculous good looks. Seriously?

"Uh….it was my friend Julie's party. For her birthday. Well, her quarter-birthday. A quirtday," Penelope answered, a little flustered – probably due to the alcohol. Was she maybe in the wrong apartment?

He shakes his head and sighs. Somehow he does not very impressed. Not a good sign.

"Again? Didn't you want to stop the partying and spent more time at home, Clementine?"

Her name was not Clementine, but for that 5-o'-clock shadow...it could be. Hell, he could call her whatever he wanted as long as he stayed right here in her apartment. Preferably in that half-naked state.

"I'm…sorry," Penelope mumbles, not entirely sure why she feels guilty or bad. Her name wasn't Clementine, nor did she ever made such promise, especially not to him. Cause if she had, she sure as hell would have remembered it. And him. Oh, and she sure as hell would have done _everything_ to keep that promise.

She watches him get up, scrunching his forehand with his fingertips, and thinking. Penelope thinks as well, especially how those fingertips would feel on her skin. How he would trace invisible, made-up patterns on her skin with feather-light touches. How she would end up with goosebumps all over and…wait, where were they again? Oh yes, him getting up and getting dangerously close to her.

A long moment passes, one that is marked by Penelope noting just how perfectly his dark navy slacks hang off his hips. Slacks she hadn't even noticed that he was wearing. But then again…he looked like sin personified. Who in their right mind would have noticed anything other than all the perfect skin and abs and muscles and…anything in between?

"I'm disappointed…" Oh… that didn't sound good. She didn't want to disappoint him. But…wait! She didn't even know him. Wasn't it time that maybe she should ask about what he was doing here? Or how he got in? Or whether he was just a fragment of her imagination?

Were imaginations supposed to smell really, really good and hot and sexy? And where they supposed to make you feel hot? Like really hot? And not just "did this room get hot?" hot, but "his body heat can be felt on my skin" hot? And maybe it wasn't alcohol poisoning but rather a concussion. Maybe she had been hit on the head at some stage today and just didn't notice it.

"You know what you need?" she heard him asking…and oh, he sure as hell didn't want to know what she was thinking this very moment. Because…hello 50 shades of Grey.

She slowly shock her head no, pressing her lips together in an effort to not laugh about her own silliness. He didn't look like someone who wanted to hear _that_ sort of answer right now.

"You need to be reminded what's waiting back home for you," she heard him say in a stern voice and a moment later she felt his lips on hers. And maybe she really needed to be _reminded_. Holly hell!

He was all hands and lips and tongue and heat and sex. In a kiss. If that was his reminder he sure as hell needed to remind her daily. Twice. An hour. Because she really could get used to his form of reminder. And all the feelings that started in her belly and lower regions. Feelings she wasn't sure she had felt in a while. At least not since she split up with her ex-boyfriend.

But who would be thinking about ex-boyfriends when you had someone like _that_ right in front of you, kissing you like his life depended on it.

The next she knew, he pulled back, looked at her for a moment, studying her, before reaching for her hand and pulling her after him. Right towards the direction of the bedroom.

And maybe Penelope should be concerned that he seemed to know so effortlessly the way around her apartment, but… she wasn't. She was way too transfixed in him and hos now very present backside to care or bother.

But seriously…. Who really cared?!

For the next few hours she'd be Clementine and ask the really important questions in the morning. Maybe.

 ********** The END ***********


End file.
